


Ask not of me to Allow

by musicalgirl4474



Series: Whumptober 2020 [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alex isn't having a good time, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Maiming, Nooses, Other, Whumptober 2020, even though the ending kinda makes it seem like it, he doesn't die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalgirl4474/pseuds/musicalgirl4474
Summary: Alex attempts to get away. He fails, and is punished.Whumptober #5Where do you think you're going?On the Run/Failed Escape/Rescue
Series: Whumptober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956718
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	Ask not of me to Allow

The hand in his hair did not relent as they traveled, even as Alexander’s exhausted muscles lost their ability to stay tense. All he could see was the sky above him, Arnold’s shoulder an uncomfortable block beneath the throbbing in his skull. But he could hear the redcoats laughing around them. He couldn’t always catch what they were saying, but the little he could hear chilled his blood.

“When Washington comes for his little pup, we’ll shoot ‘im!”

“Hardly honorable,” one of the more senior redcoats said, but an exuberant voice cut him off.

“The rebels haven’t been fighting with honor, why should we? Besides, we kill Washington, it’s all over.”

“There’s no reason to think that Washington will come to the prisoner exchange himself,” Arnold said from behind him. Hamilton squeezed his eyes shut as his body startled at the sudden sound.

“Wasn’t that the point of this whole escapade sir?”

Arnold laughed, and Alexander hated the sound. “One must hope for the best and prepare for the worst. But even at worst, we are getting many men back for just one, and this one can’t even walk properly!”

“We should make it so he can’t write properly either,” one of the men said. “Isn’t that all he’s good for?”

Arnold humms appreciatively behind Hamilton, and no, they can’t take his hands from him! The surge of panic (would they break his hands? Or go one step further and cut them off? No, he couldn’t allow it) gave him an adrenaline boost. He wrenched his head from Arnold’s grip and slammed it back into the man’s face.

He heard a shout of surprise as he tipped sideways off of the horse, but the world seemed to have gone slightly grey to his senses. He landed hard on his side on the ground, the air knocked out of him. Still, he managed to get his feet under him and made it nearly off the road before he was brought to a halt by the ropes around his neck.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” Arnold seethed, looking down at where Alexander’s sudden loss of balance had sent him sprawling.

“You did just threaten to take my hands,” he pointed out breathlessly. “As your pretty little play soldier so wisely put it, I’m rather useless without them. What did you think was going to happen?”

Arnold let out a bark of a laugh, and it wasn’t kind. “Well,” he said, “If Jacobs is going to get your vitriol, it’s only fair to let him have the honors. If you would hold him, boys.” Two men, one blond and quite too large for his uniform coat, the other a brunette, hoisted him to his knees as Arnold cut the binds at his wrists and wrestled his right arm forward.

Jacobs had been the man to grab hold of the end of Alexander’s noose ropes when Arnold had let go in surprise after his face got quite intimately acquainted with the back of Alexander’s skull. And how he was the man with a sharp knife about to separate Alexander’s right hand from his arm. The fuzzy grayness of Alexander’s vision still hadn’t left, and he wondered vaguely if he would pass out. 

“It’d be a shame to lose both of those pretty hands,” the brunette holding him said. His breath smelled like fish.

“Indeed,” Arnold said, flashing white teeth. “Just the right one then, Jacobs. Enough of a maiming to get him discharged when we trade him back to Washington and sent- well, he doesn’t have a home now, does he? He’ll be easy to pick back up. And then you can have all the fun with him you want, Wilson.”

Jacobs smiled nastily as he came forward. The blade was sharp against the back of his wrist. Blood welled up, but all he could feel was cold. And then he felt nothing at all.

**Author's Note:**

> He's not dead. I promise. He just passed out. He's got a low-grade concussion though, so things are complicated.  
> Also, just so you know, Hamilton was/is left-handed. So Arnold's an idiot.


End file.
